The Beauty and the Bitch
by justonemoreartist
Summary: Queen Eira's brother, Prince Andreas, introduces his fiance, the Princess Joanne, to his disapproving older sister. Contains nominal Hanna and tagalong Onion. Oneshot.


**The Beauty and the Bitch**

I knew there was to be trouble the moment I heard my younger brother call my name.

"Eira!" Andreas cried from behind me, easily audible over the general chatter, and I concealed my wince with a tight smile directed at the Spanish ambassador. Bless him: he recognized the danger and was already bowing out of our conversation when I turned to face my brother.

Andreas, who had not spent any time whatsoever talking to all the party guests he had been dying to meet, who had wandered away the minute my attention had strayed, was tugging a woman forward by the hand. She allowed this with a patient, good-natured grin that I recognized as one my brother often inspired whenever his infectious energy, which rattled around his tall, bony frame, was too much to ignore.

The woman came up almost to Andreas's nose when the pair were standing side by side. Her auburn hair was pulled back into a ponytail that was composed of ringlets, the bow holding them together a pastel blue. Several bangs were allowed to remain free and two of them framed her narrow face, the ends curling just over her high cheekbones. Her eyes were green with flecks of hazel and were bright and merry. Both her and my brother's outfits were slightly rumpled, with Andreas's pants wrinkled even to the knee, as though he had removed his boots at some point and shoved them back on quickly without thinking.

The woman's dress was a full, creamy white that clung like a second skin to her arms and slender waist and blossomed into a set of ruffles from her hips down to the floor. She wore a pair of modest gloves and her neckline dipped low enough to show the well-formed curves of her breasts.

I noticed with a sinking feeling in my stomach that her arm was wrapped tightly around my brother's.

Andreas jerked his head to look quickly between the two of us, beaming. Some poor servant had somehow managed to get his wispy hair under control for the sake of the coronation but already it was starting to fly all over the place, his locks all tousled and just a shade too long. It made him look like a puppy who had managed to squirm out of a brushing; my palms itched to correct things. Somewhere along the way he had lost his gloves, leaving his hands bare. I consigned the missing gloves to the winds and made a mental note to gift him another pair.

"Eira-uh, Queen Eira, that is," Andreas said, with a slight shake of his head as he chuckled, "may I present to you…" He gestured at the woman, who inclined her head a hair, eyes remaining on me. "…Princess Joanne of the Southern Isles!"

He paused here, his enormous smile lighting up his face and setting color to his cheeks. Or perhaps he had been out of doors: he usually blushed with his ears, not the tip of his nose, which was a nice, cherry red. I did not respond immediately, turning instead to examine the woman. Princess Joanne offered me a delicate curtsy, directing her eyes at the floor as she murmured, "Your Majesty." She returned to her full height, a few inches above my own, and weathered my gaze without batting an eye or moving to speak further.

I raised an eyebrow. Patient? Hardly my brother's type. I couldn't fault him for being interested, however.

And interested he must be, for Andreas was clearly offering her to me as if to say, "Here, this one is nice, isn't she?" Certainly compared to her peers. He might not intend to be as bold as I was, but I had eyes and I knew a fluttering heart when I saw one. His crushes came and went but his tendency towards infatuation remained the same. I was already resigning myself to a month of listening to his sighs from across the dinner table as he pined for yet another woman.

My brother wore his every emotion on his sleeve. It was almost endearing, in an exasperating way.

"Princess Joanne," I replied in due time. "I don't believe we've met before, though I have shared correspondences with one of your older brothers in the past. Tell me, is Anton well?" The man was nothing to look at, having been blessed with none of Joanne's good looks, but he had a keen mind and an eye for detail - well enough reason to maintain the acquaintance.

"If nothing has happened in the last week that I have been at sea then he is quite happy, and I thank you for asking." Joanne smiled at me. It made her look quite lovely.

Andreas, who didn't appear at all interested in this conversation, declared, "The two of us have something to ask you."

Joanne's laughter bubbled up like champagne, she bringing a hand up to her mouth as she regarded him. "Oh Andy," she said, tapping him on the arm and turning her smile on him as I felt something clench in my chest, "don't you think that's a little forward?" She did nothing to stop him when he grinned and pulled her closer to his side. She almost melted against him, arranging herself so that they seemed one.

My opinion of her sank.

Andreas waved a hand in dismissal. "Come on, it's Eira! She'll be fine with it, it's just a formality. No offense meant, sis."

"None taken," I muttered.

"So…" Andreas threaded his fingers through Joanne's. I tried not to frown and tell him to hurry up, waiting for the question. "I-uh, I mean, WE…" Andreas said, gaze flicking to Joanne's, who tilted her head, the perfect picture of adoration, "we…would like…your, um, your..."

"My what…?" I prompted, raising both eyebrows this time in a show of earnest, if underplayed, confusion. Let my brother believe me cold and emotionless: he might throw smiles and frowns upon his face with equal speed, ferocity, and abandon, but I had found my expressions seemed more truthful if they were not overt. There was something amusing, if painful, about the fact that my deceptions were more readily believed than my truths.

It was Joanne who spoke first; Andreas was still tripping over his tongue, a habit of his when he got too excited. "Your blessing for our upcoming marriage."

Their _what_?

Joanne continued unperturbed, not at all put off by my sudden, tight-lipped silence. "His Highness seemed willing to drop down on one knee already, but I thought it more proper to ask for your permission first," the princess said, and on her lips it sounded almost natural to inform the queen of Arendelle to her face that she, a complete stranger, would be engaged to a lanky, overgrown boy within hours of meeting him. Had Andreas proposed the idea, I would have blinked, turned around and left with barely a word, irritated that he had been so foolish. Joanne, however, spoke with the calm confidence that made it seem as though it would be me who was making a scene, should I object. The fact that she had been so brave as to make her case in public, surrounded by so many eyes, added to the sense that my acquiescence was a foregone conclusion.

I should have rejected them on the spot. It was the only sensible response to such an inappropriate question. The request was terribly out of line, it flew in the face of custom, tradition, and all manner of sense and propriety. The whole thing was nonsense, utter nonsense. No sane person would believe it to be acceptable to ask to be wed within hours of meeting someone.

The answer to the question was abundantly clear, as was my course as queen.

So of course I then erred.

I looked at my brother. He was biting his lip as he waited. He did that whenever he knew he was going to start babbling and Father would clear his throat and remind him that a man ought to speak such that his audience desires him to continue, not to stop. It reminded me of the way that I often adjusted my gloves, pulling them up my wrists or tugging at the tips of the fingers.

He had begged for his own pair of gloves when I had put on mine. He had wanted to "be like Eira". He had never understood the importance of them, the weight as it hung from my hands. Nor had he understood why I had turned away. Those eyes that had watched me leave so long ago; innocent, yearning, filled with a strained faith that staggered, groaned, and somehow held under the heavy burden of constant disappointment; they had never changed.

There exist few things quite so crippling as young hope.

Neither a throne nor a crown will lend a coward their courage. I looked down. My hands, imprisoned in their gloves, met my gaze, two neat little figures, like statues.

I lifted my head.

"I see. That sounds…splendid," I said, watching as Andreas, almost at Father's height, slumped, his features relaxing. The action made his vest bunch up. It wasn't a bad look, either, for it gave the appearance of weight to his bones. Perhaps if his feet ever touched the ground, he might have gained some degree of musculature through some disciplined activity to set him on the path of rivaling Father, but he rarely seemed interested in anything more than flights of fancy.

And it was one such flight that I would need to bring to a stop. But not here. My brother's reaction could not possibly be good, and this was not the place for a heated discussion.

Thankfully, there were always alternatives.

"…though of course I will wish to know more from her Highness, in private," I said, and Andreas flinched, his gaze darting towards his companion. I turned a sigh into a polite, patient smile. If he could not be reasoned with, then surely she could. His unhappiness could not be avoided, but it would not be me dealing the blow.

I knew this to be preferable.

Andreas marshaled his strength, setting his shoulders back and plastering a look of determination to his face. "Uh, I think if there's anything you have to say-"

"-then I would of course be delighted to hear it," Joanne cut in. She shot her partner a knowing, playful look. "I'm afraid you'll have to put up with some gossip between women, Andreas. But I promise I won't say anything that isn't untrue."

"I'm not worried about what you'll say," Andreas said and, realizing his mistake a second too late, shifted uncomfortably where he stood, not looking at me. I allowed the silence to stew for a few moments as Andreas cringed further within himself and Joanne remained ever patient.

"If her Majesty is anything like you, then I needn't, either," Joanne responded lightly. She removed herself from Andreas's grip, stepping forward. "If I may follow you, your Majesty?"

* * *

"Was I wrong to imagine a small parlor?" Joanne asked as I closed the balcony doors behind me. The princess drew over to the railing, laying a hand on one of the vines snaking up a pillar. Quiet throughout our short walk, she suddenly laughed. When I frowned, the princess nodded at the view. "I was here not a few hours ago. Your brother made me try all these different desserts. I'm certain I've tasted just about every sweet in Arendelle." She tilted her head, her eyes soft and kind as she considered me. "You _do_ take after him. It's not obvious, what with his height and your hair, but it's there."

I ignored this. "I don't care for stuffy rooms, and it seemed wrong to force you to endure one." I indicated the railing with one gloved hand; if Joanne was surprised by the informality, she hid it well, gathering her skirts to one side before seating herself so that they spread outward, like the layers of branches on evergreens, each layer wider than the next.

I did not sit. I set my gloved hands on the railing. The clock tower, with its face lit up at night, was visible to the east. It was inching closer to midnight, the huge, heavy arms upon the face moving slowly into position at a quarter of the hour. The Sun had set hours ago, so I was thankful for the rows of lamps dotting the gardens below, otherwise we would have been completely encased in darkness. There were no lights on the balcony; I would have struggled to see more than the underside of the princess' chin, the curve of her cheekbone and her eyes, had I bothered to scrutinize her face.

I didn't. People lied with their faces, and I hadn't the judgement to say when this was so.

Instead, I listened. I had had years of training in that arena.

To my right, Joanne shivered without saying a word, keeping her arms at her sides. Of course, I was not cold.

I had only felt cold once in my life.

I felt the accusations rise to my lips as I stood there. The demand to know what she had been thinking, to ask for my blessing, the sharp questions that would sink their teeth into her pretty little form, tearing out answers.

A soft whisper from a world gone by, a tutor holding a jailer's keys, bearing a crown. _"You must learn patience, Eira."_

The tower was always watching. I could not escape it, only bow to its will.

"How are you enjoying Arendelle?" I asked.

Joanne smiled, her teeth white against the darkness. She was very good at it. I could understand the attraction. "It's even better than I had expected. It has all the comforts of home and none of the, ah…" She exhaled slowly. "Drawbacks."

"Do these drawbacks come in the form of twelve older brothers?" The king of the Southern Isles was infamous for having few pursuits besides one, and it showed in the size of his family. I understood there to be thirteen heirs and dozens of unsubstantiated rumors.

"Oh yes!" she proclaimed. "You'll never hear an ill word out of me concerning them, but 'exhausted' and 'overwhelmed' aren't off the table. Boys have so much spirit to them that it's hard to keep up. Worse still is when they...they all want to spend time with their littlest sister at once." It must have been very cold because her shivering increased. Perhaps she would be less uncomfortable if she had been more covered. "I'm no stranger to scraped knees and ruined dresses, and I've kissed more frogs – and some toads – than I'm happy to admit." She fiddled with her gloves while wearing a sheepish smile. "Although some of them were because I thought a prince might appear," she confessed.

I held my disappointment at bay. Mostly. A short exhale slipped through. She hadn't impressed me to begin with, but more evidence of foolishness was not helping my opinion of her, which had met its high point when she had demonstrated boldness earlier. "A closet romantic?"

"Aren't we all?" Her eyes were sparkling with an inner fire. The color was very pretty, at least. Andreas could do much worse. "Life could always use some magic."

I didn't contradict her, not with my words, at least. My very being would suffice.

She made a conciliatory gesture. "But I'm complaining when I should be complimenting you on such a wonderful home."

"It is very wonderful," I said. I'd said the words often enough that they almost seemed real, so her brows didn't furrow, nor did she frown. Thank Heaven for little miracles. "What do you like about it?" I asked. Arendelle's stark, rugged grandeur drew the poet's eye and pen, but its towns and cities, few and far between, were far too small and unsophisticated for the average European aristocrat. Or a pampered princess, once she actually travelled the land.

She sighed as her shoulders slid back, the shadows slipping over her long neck and the dip in her collarbone as she turned her head to gaze at the open sea. The low light made her hair seem darker, her pale skin fairly glowing in contrast. "It's just…perfect." She paused, thinking. The quiet returned for several moments as I listened to her breathe. Slight, just barely audible, but I knew the sound of breath from a room, from a mile, from a closed door away.

Joanne continued. "The people here are so kind, so simple – no unnecessary fancies or frivolities," she said, shaking her head, her ringlets wagging behind her, "just happy smiles and far, far too many desserts! Everything looks so open and free, right down to the castle: it's like it was lifted right from a fairy tale."

I could feel a headache coming on. I massaged my forehead with one gloved hand. "A picturesque setting…?"

"Precisely so." She laughed. It was a sweet, thoughtless sound, and it set my teeth on edge. "Right down to Prince Charming on his white horse." Too candid to be sarcastic, too self-aware to be truly awed.

Maybe not _self_-aware. I couldn't recall the last time I'd seen Andreas ride. It didn't help that he was always outgrowing his horses.

"You found him charming?" I asked. It wasn't incredulous, merely curious. Andreas was many things; clumsy, talkative, energetic, affectionate, devoted; but charismatic or suave? No.

Get to the _point_.

I could almost hear Father's breath in my ear. _"Hold back, don't confront. How will it look, Eira?"_

Joanne nodded firmly. "He's so utterly sweet and sincere that it's impossible not to be charmed." On this we could agree. "How often does one meet a man who is so open, so kind and caring? Back at home it's…" She stopped again.

I examined the clock tower in the interim. There were a pair of wooden carvings, a man and a woman, on tracks that led to the front of the tower. Statues, waiting for their time.

Andreas, as a child, had believed them to be representations of Mother and Father. I didn't disabuse him of the notion: he was always getting into all sorts of trouble, so it had done him good to tread carefully whenever under the watchful gaze of the tower.

The day the news of their death came, delivered by a stone-faced Kai and an empty harbor, he had stayed by my door the entire night, clutching the edge of my dress under the door, for once content with that meager scrap of acknowledgement. The next day he had gone missing, sending Gerda into near hysterics. I had not needed to worry about where he was. I had spent the day clothed in black with my eyes on the tower, watching as the three figures sat there, silent and motionless.

"…it's different," she ended charitably. "Although…I might be drawing too much from my brothers and not enough from my male acquaintances."

"We always reach first for those closest to us," I mumbled. Even if they were the ones who remained so very far away, without knowing why, wearing worn but hopeful smiles whose light faded for as long as they were not returned, who knocked on doors that closed in their faces and held out their empty, beseeching hands; longing.

I looked towards the sea. The crests of the waves broke white, the foam sparkling in the starlight. I could breathe so long as I watched the sea rise and fall.

One of the ships in the harbor rocked, its flag fluttering in the light breeze. I took a deep breath and looked away.

Joanne grinned. "I'm not sure that's such a good idea for me to do. My brothers liked to tease me without mercy. All those silly, silly little games." Her voice shook slightly from the cold. Inside my gloves, the skin on my hands prickled as I concentrated, pushing the magic down, down, down, into that part of me that could not, would not ever see the light of day. It made the headache worsen.

This was good thing. Pain was familiar and comfortable, if not comforting.

"But that's all right," she said. "I figured out how to handle them, eventually, that is. It took a lot of trial and error. The secret is to always listen, and eventually they'll tell you what the real problem is. It became a joke, at one point: little Joanne, so quiet she was nearly invisible."

"A useful skill to have; to know when to listen," I said. The pain in my head was something real I could focus upon.

"Of course, then I ruin it all by overcompensating when I meet new people and babble on and on. You'll forgive me for that, I hope."

She chuckled at herself.

I had had enough. Joanne had displayed some measure of both patience and kindness; admirable, if innocent traits that they were; but that was all, just flashes in the pan that gave way to blathering. She spoke too much and on undesirable subjects with more than a few hints towards her naiveté. At least she and my brother matched.

Ordinarily this would have been a good thing, because someone who could compete with Andreas' chatter without running out of breath or out the door was a rare and useful find, worthy of holding onto, but I could not find myself happily engaged with the prospect of allowing their marriage. It was too sudden, too soon, too convenient and, if I were being honest, too neat. Andreas would be happy with his companion and I…well.

I was not being that honest.

I straightened. I had come to my decision, one that matched my initial judgment, and now it was merely a matter of explaining that to the princess. I turned to face her, drawing myself taller. She regarded me with an impassive face and opened her mouth to speak before I could.

"Are younger brothers any easier to handle?"

"I…" I had to pause here to consider the question. It was one I couldn't answer. There were many of those.

But usually the speaker was someone different.

Her eyes were small points of light in the shadows. Her voice had dropped down to a soft murmur. I heard it perfectly, each word hissing through my skin like hot coals on ice. "I'd like to think that they're very different." She paused. I tried to breathe in the silence.

"But you know better."

No, I don't. Didn't. Hadn't.

_"Catch me!"_

_"No, Andy, wait-!"_

He was always such a foolish boy. But he should not have been a foolish man.

I looked down at my hands. They had tightened around the railing. The gloves on them were but a month old and I could already see marks of wear.

"No, they're not," I said. "Easier to handle, that is." I blinked quickly.

"That's surprising, coming from you," she said. I must've shown some of my alarm when I looked at her, because she added, "He speaks very highly of you, and often, too: I feel as though I became just as acquainted with you as I did with him, tonight."

Tonight. Careless of her to remind me of how long they'd known one another. I readied myself to ask the question I had been holding back.

She spoke again before I got the chance. "I could never imagine the two of you quarreling, at any rate. Nothing that would come to blows."

I flinched as the words burned a long track down my side.

"You seem far too close for that."

I swallowed. The pain in my hands and head flared up. She smiled.

"It's very proper of you, to pretend restraint in a formal setting, but I can tell. You love him dearly."

Her eyes were very green. They were easy to get lost in.

"If only he could ever love me as much as he loves you."

I closed my eyes. "…yes," I said, as the strength of will trickled out of me, leaving behind a tired, empty hollow.

She stood, her skirts sliding back into place with ease. "I won't take up any more of your time, your Majesty, as it's growing late, and I understand you prefer to retire early."

Andy liked to stay up to watch the Northern Lights. I was always wide awake for him.

That was before. Now I grew weary at this time; weary and wakeful and tired.

"I'll go fetch him, and then you two may talk alone." She clearly had spoken to Andreas about me, because she initially lifted a hand, as if to take mine, whether to console or reassure me I was uncertain, but stopped her movement without touching me. She drew her hands together so as to detract from the awkwardness. "I'm sure you're more interested in his feelings than in mine."

"That would be-yes, please do," I said. "Thank you." I forced my lips upward and they slid into a practiced pattern on my face. Joanne smiled back.

She laid a hand on the doorknob.

"Good night, your Majesty," she said.

I could barely see her in the darkness, but I knew the shape of her ever-present smile, and knew her to be pleased.

Once more, I had failed.

I nodded silently in response and she left.

* * *

"Hey," Andreas said, poking his head out, like a rabbit tiptoeing out of its warren. A lantern swung from one hand, drawing sharp shadows on his young face. He took another step past the door, still holding on to the knob. "Uh, Joanne said you wanted me…?"

I nodded. He hurried inside the instant I did so, shutting the door behind him and shuffling forward. He deposited the lantern on the railing and moved to stand near me, but not with me; as usual, he left plenty of space between us. Kai had had to manhandle him during the party just to get him up on the dais with me. I would have been made miserable if he hadn't turned my offhand remark on his well-tailored outfit into a conversation that was, at the start, surprisingly enjoyable, and my worry that he had, at last, begun to reject me as was as good as banished.

My brother remained ever faithful.

He bounced his fists against his hips. "So. Uh. You two were talking a long time."

I glanced at the clock tower. It read five minutes of the hour. Nevertheless, I found myself agreeing with him.

He hunched over, peering at me. Father wasn't around to chide him for slouching anymore. "Were you _actually_ gossiping? I can't see you doing that. It'd be so weird. You're not a gossiper." He made a face. "Is that even a word? Person who gossips…or something."

"No, we weren't gossiping." I hadn't been, at least. I had had an agenda in mind. "It wouldn't be proper, what with my duties," I said, leaving out the 'duties you have, too'. It was too accusatory; I could imagine the words winging toward their mark, striking it and making him crumple, the light in his eyes fading, falling…

He shoved his hands into his pockets and looked in the direction of my gaze. He pulled one hand out and inspected his nails before buffing them on his vest. He shoved his hand back into his pocket, feigning casualness as he kept his tone light. "Did, uh, did she say anything about me?"

"She had a few choice words, yes."

His act fell apart as his eyes widened. "Oh. She did? Yeah that makes sense, because you were going to talk about me-I mean, us, anyways." He dragged a hand through his hair, making me sigh as some locks fell forward into his eyes. "So…were…were they good ones?

I bit the inside of my cheek, shaking my head. "Could anyone worth knowing say anything bad about you?" I mused aloud.

He stared at me. "Is that a trick question?"

I snorted before I could stop myself. He looked startled, but only momentarily, and then his face lit up with a small grin that grew as he snickered, too. For a moment, I could forget all about the party still going on, the throne and the crown, the princess and the marriage and my gloves and guilt and just laugh with my brother for no other reason than because we both wanted to.

He had many laughs, ranging from nervous to self-conscious to amused, but I had always loved this one the best: the slow, deep belly laugh of a man whose happiness simply had to be shared, a gift that passed through many hands because the joy came not in taking, but in giving. It felt like rich honey, sweet and satisfying, like a blanket tucked tightly around me, holding in the warmth.

He combed his fingers through his hair in an effort to brush it back. The action revealed the small scar at the edge of his hairline, so faded it was barely noticeable, even upon close inspection.

It screamed at me, a line of poison searing into his scalp, lurking underneath his hair. I turned away.

"She really liked this place", he said.

I glanced at the tower, at my brother's face, and at the sea.

"I knew she would, because…" He looked down at his hands, dragging his knuckles over the railing. "Because this is your favorite place in the palace."

"So it's...perfect," he mumbled to his hands. "Because it's yours. Your favorite place."

It wasn't my favorite place. But I hadn't been to that in years. We lived in separate rooms, now.

His eyes, too, were green, but made softer with a touch of blue.

My eyes were blue. Was that the only thing we had in common? It didn't use to be.

Once, long ago, we were friends. What had happened to that time? It had been set aside, like clothes that were too small, gloves that were old and worn, set aside because we no longer fit. He had his place, and I had mine. Mine was in that queer cage one calls a throne.

His was in my heart.

"She suits you," I heard myself say. The words burned in my throat. They were wrong, but they were true.

"Yeah," he whispered, his eyes bright. "You love her too, huh?"

He took my silence to mean agreement.

"She's perfect. I knew you'd love her."

And he, her. Even if it was fleeting. Even if it wasn't real. Even if it meant nothing.

Especially if it meant everything.

"You ever feel this...this, real intense connection with someone? Like you're their perfect match? You'd do anything for them, no matter what, give up the whole world, just to make sure they're okay?"

I looked up into his eyes. I thought of long hours spent staring at the back of a door. I remembered how tight the first pair of gloves had been, how they'd clung to my fingers. I felt the thrum of the magic as it churned inside of me, aching to be free.

"I've never felt that way," I lied.

His smile faded. He waited for me to explain. He gave me that chance.

"Marry her," I said, finally letting him go.

I didn't deserve to keep him.


End file.
